The Secret
by HarvestBeauty
Summary: Whit finds out something surprising about somebody on the ranch.


_A/N: Just a silly little idea I thought of. Wrote it in about five minutes. :P_

"Darn it!" Slim swore under his breath. He hopped off of the horse he was on, dismounting with ease, and lifted up her leg with concern. He'd know that limp anywhere. Slim's gaze swept over all of the busy bodies working, not quite sure who to call on. He both hated and loved harvest season. He loved the excited energy of the harvest, but hated how dead tired he and everyone felt after a day's work. It was even more tiring than ususal.

Pausing to wipe the sweat away from dripping into his eyes, Whit caught sight of Slim's predicament. Ever eager to prove himself, the young ranch hand sprang forward with an enthusiasm that startled Slim.

"I'll do it, Slim!"

"Have you ever repaired a split hoof before, son?" Slim questioned.

"Yup!" Whit lied. How hard could it be? Besides, a break from the fields would be a blessing.

"Okay..." Slim reluctantly handed over the reins to Whit. He had to attend to the fields. He prayed the young man knew what he was doing.

Whit took the reins, attempting to lead the poor horse to the barn.

"Here, girl..." He cooed, trying not to let on how nervous he was. The horse seemed skittish of him at first, not willing to accept his authority. He hoped he wouldn't get trampled. Slowly but surely, he inched his way over to his destination, grateful the horse seemed so hesitant to follow him. After all, it gave him time to think. How the hell does one repair a broken hoof, anyway?

Mulling over his thoughts, Whit led the animal through the entrance of the barn and stepped inside. Eyes adjusting to the change in light, Whit was momentarily blinded. All he could see was darkness. To add to his confusion he heard a pleasant singing voice. A warm, young male's voice:

 _"Don't sit under the apple tree, with anybody else but me. 'Till I come marching home..."_

Whit recognized the radio hit, you'd have to be living under a rock not to. He wondered which one of the new, young ranch hands was in the barn with him. He wondered if they ever considered a career singing on the radio, because whoever it was sounded pretty darn good. Whit could see himself snapping his fingers to the beat of the song if he wasn't busy with this horse. Abruptly, the voice cut off with a surprised gasp just as Whit's eyesight finally began to adjust to the darkness inside the barn. He got the shock of his life.

Standing there with a pitchfork full of hay raised in midair was Curley. He appeared frozen on the spot, gripping onto the pitchfork for dear life. His eyes and mouth made three large O's in his face, the ultimate deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

Whit couldn't help himself. He burst into laughter.

"Alright now, hush up! Everyone's gonna hear you!" Snapping out of his horrified state, Curley tried desperately to shush him.

"I've heard of whistle while you work, but _sing_? You, of all people!" Whit roared with laughter at the panicked expression on Curley's face. For once, he wasn't afraid of being punched or fired by the smaller man.

Curley lowered his gaze, blushing so brightly that Whit could've sworn he was glowing.

"...Shut up."

"Awww, don't worry. I'm not gonna tell anyone. Not like anyone would believe me, anyway." Whit shook his head, still amused by the whole situation. Curley seemed to relax slightly at his words.

"It all makes sense now..." Whit smirked.

"What?" Curley questioned.

"The hair, the dimples and now this. I knew it. You're Shirley Temple undercover!" Whit hunched over with laughter at the offended look on Curley's face. Curley, in spite of himself, began to laugh along as well. He honestly could say that he never, ever expected anyone to make _that_ comparison. Normally it would piss him off, but in this scenario it just seemed so silly.

"Hey, watch it. I'm the one holdin' the pitchfork, here." Curley smirked, no real venom to his tone. "What are you doin' out here, anyway?"

"She's gotta split hoof." Whit jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the animal behind him.

"I'll get her fixed up. You go on."

"Really?" Whit could not believe his luck.

"Yeah. Now go on. Get." The boxer waved dismissively with his hand.

Whit didn't need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and headed for the door. He stopped when Curley called his name, turning back to face him.

"Hey, Whit...this never happened. Okay?"

"What never happened?" Whit grinned, playing dumb.

Curley nodded. They had an understanding. He watched Whit leave, smiling slightly to himself as he thought about what just took place. He couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a laugh with a guy on the ranch...it was rather nice. Giving the horse a pat on her snout to greet her, he turned back to his original chore of picking up the hay with his pitchfork. He'd get to the horse soon enough.

"Hey, Curley?" Whit poked his head back into the barn.

"Yeah?" Curley looked at him curiously.

"Do you tap dance, too?"

Whit cackled, dodging the huge clump of hay that Curley aimed at his head.

THE END


End file.
